Followed by Fire

by McKenzie Austin

  Why the Angel Lord did not strike the priest down for his sins, De’Savaria had no earthly clue. He gripped the sword at his side, rising to his feet when he determined the risk of being spotted had passed.

  Were it that he could cut them down now without risk to himself, he would. De’Savaria doubted very much that he could battle a demon and an enchanter by himself. It would take time to make his move. Time to organize everything. He couldn’t be too careful; not around wielders of magic and beasts of the Netherworld.

  If the Angel Lord would not smite Elias for his sins… for his treacherous involvement with Brigovia’s magical scum… he would do it himself. For the people. For the Angel Lord. For Serena.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What does one even pack to hunt demons?”

  Back in her simple homestead in the forest, Esven rummaged through her belongings. Not much had changed in the short time she was gone. A few glistening spider webs had sprung up in corners. The light of the foxfire had dulled. A new layer of dust settled over her possessions. Save for that, the interior remained very much the same.

  It was almost as if she hadn’t even left.

  Balvo watched as she hurried about. Two days and several incantations had given both of their bodies enough time to recover from the trials they had faced. But while the superficial wounds had closed, the scars of the battle remained.

  She was nervous. He heard it in her voice. Esven felt the guilt of freeing the demons. The guilt at having not pursued them immediately after their release. Balvo huffed at the thought. What good would that have done? He told her time and time again, a broken body could not bring down a demon, let alone a hundred of them.

  They hadn’t spoken much about it. About anything since the incident, really. They spent much of their time in recovery, both physical and emotional.

  Balvonak scrubbed at his weary face. The nights were the hardest for him. Each evening brought dreams. No, nightmares; and the nightmares always brought Marumon.

  The Demon Lord was relentless.

  He voiced none of this to Esven. As he watched her frazzled body fly around the room, throwing random things into her satchel, Balvo decided she had enough of her own trials to deal with.

  She fashioned herself into a key. He still couldn’t believe she had done that, just to release him from the Netherworld.

  That act alone put her in far more danger than she had been in before.

  Balvo’s stomach twisted at the thought. Before, the demons needed her permission to walk into Brigovia. Her consent.

  She had foolishly given it.

  It was a heartfelt sentiment, though oxygen deprivation and nerves made her miscalculate the incantation. Esven became more than just his key… she became a key for the whole damned doorway, and keys didn’t need to give permission. They only needed to be shoved in the right place.

  Because of that, he harbored concerns for her life.

  It was no longer just Vahldod who sought her. The horde would hunt her. Each freed beast would crave Marumon’s praise enough to turn her into prey.

  Balvo steeled his jaw. Esven and the priest thought that they would be hunting the demons… but it was the demons who would be hunting them.

  Turning his back on the Demon Lord did not rank high in the category of good decisions Balvonak had made over the years; but as he reflected on what Esven had done for him in the Netherworld… how she risked her life to pull him from that place… he couldn’t say for certain he would have done anything differently.

  Balvo watched her scatter around the small home, feverishly running her hands through her hair as she made mental checklists. He smiled at the sight.

  What was one more bad decision in a lifetime of them, anyway?

  Maritimus stretched out at Balvonak’s feet, his pink tongue curling after he released a giant yawn. The fire demon nodded, crossing his arms as he leaned against a wall. “You and me both, pal...”

  “I think this is everything. Is this everything?” Esven scanned the countertops, her heart palpitating. It was really happening. She was leaving this place. She was off to do something worthwhile. Something purposeful. In a distracted flurry of movement, she spun, miscalculating how close Balvonak stood behind her. Her hands shot up when she realized he was only a foot away, and she took a quick step back. “Gods alive, you’re like a shadow.”

  Balvo’s eyes flicked to her palms. His gaze traced each curve, and a subconscious frown spread over his face. Her skin had healed nicely. Far better than any other mortal who survived receiving third degree burns several days before. Still, he took note of each reddened patch. Every tender inch. “Your wounds are healing quickly,” he mumbled.

  His demeanor threw water on the fire that was her nerves. Try as he might to disguise it, she could pluck every shred of guilt out of his statement. Esven’s expression softened as she tilted her head. “I chose to heal you, Balvonak. It was my decision.”

  “I know,” he muttered, scratching at the side of his face. “I know.”

  She assessed him for a moment before her eyes lit up. “That reminds me—I have something for you.”

  Balvonak arched a brow, but a knock at the entrance silenced him before he could add anything to her announcement. The pair faced the door, each bristling with nervous tension. In a time where more enemies than friends could stand outside the entry, Esven had a hard time convincing herself to open it.

  Catching her look, Balvonak took a step forward. He reached for the knob, placing himself between Esven and whoever stood on the opposite side. The demon’s cautious posture vanished when Elias’ face filled his vision.

  “Oh,” Balvonak muttered, relaxing his shoulders. “It’s just you.”

  Esven looked over his shoulder, smiling as she pushed her way passed Balvo. “Elias!” She threw her arms around him in a relieved embrace. The witch had carried a worry with her that an ill-fate would befall him when he returned to Pinesguard two days ago. Nothing she had said came close to convincing him to stay; Elias insisted on tying up his loose ends.

  “Hello, Esven.” Elias smiled uncomfortably under her touch. “I returned for just a moment. I thought you might need these.” He handed her the books as soon as she pulled out of the embrace: Father Asher’s journal and Amadeia’s spell book.

  “Oh—” The witch stared down at the volumes, gingerly taking them into her hands. She had almost forgotten about them, given the chaos they had faced not long ago. It felt strange to have them back in her hands. Like touching something she wanted, but shouldn’t have. “Thank you, Elias.”

  “Of course.” He nodded, drawing his shoulders back as he looked at the pair and sighed. “Well, I… broke it to the church that I was going on sabbatical. I found a suitable replacement to take over for me until I return.”

  Esven nodded, holding the books to her chest. “Are we leaving today, then?”

  “We have to.” Elias’ lighthearted expression dimmed. “I invoked the name of the Angel Lord. I fear things will escalate now that He knows demons have invaded the surface. We need to put this fire out before it spreads.”

  How things could escalate any further than they already had, Esven had no idea. She exchanged glances with the two men as Maritimus padded out the door, brushing up against her leg.

  The priest flexed his fingers, lifting his eyes to the others. “How many do you suppose got out?”

  Esven winced. “I’m not sure. It was so hard to tell.” Her pupils glossed over as she shook her head. “So many came out of the gate at once.”

  “Well…” Elias paused, slipping his hands into his large sleeves. “I suppose we’ll find out eventually. I am sorry to cut our meeting short,” he admitted, looking back in the direction of Pinesguard. “I wanted to make sure the books were in your hands before I did anything else.” His concentration was pulled back to the direction of Pinesguard. “I just wish to say one final farewell to the church before we head out.”

  “Of course,” Esven nodd
ed, slipping the books into the satchel at her side. “We’ll follow. I think we have every—wait, no. Go on ahead, Elias, I forgot something.” She stopped in the doorway and threw a glance over her shoulder. “We’ll meet you at the church, all right?”

  The man offered a smile and bowed his head. “Of course, Esven. See you in a moment.”

  As she disappeared back inside the small home, Balvo stared at Elias. He looked far better than the version he had last seen, crawling away from the carnage they left in the forest. “So…” he muttered, shuffling uneasily, “you look… less like garbage than you did before.”

  Elias smirked despite the strange statement. His tone shifted to one of sincere gratitude. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

  It struck Balvonak off guard. The demon writhed in his spot, his arms stiffening at his sides. “Yeah, well… I had a feeling you’d do more than burn a hand print in my chest if I hadn’t.”

  “If you continue to keep her safe,” Elias added, placing a hand over his chest, “I do believe I could move beyond the fact that you’re a walking incarnation of my god’s vilified twin brother.”

  A sarcastic brow sprung up on Balvonak’s face. “Lucky me.”

  “I’m serious, Balvo.” Elias’ smile remained, though somehow adopted more of a thoughtful quality. “Scripture has made me very familiar with the worlds of angels and demons. I needn’t consult with Esven to know that you made certain… sacrifices… to maintain her wellbeing.”

  Instinct compelled Balvonak to lean away. He was not used to praise. Especially from a priest. It was decidedly uncomfortable.

  Witnessing his uneasiness, Elias chuckled softly. “Well… never mind all that. It seems if we’ll be traveling together, we may as well make peace with one another’s presence.” He held out his hand to shake. “Shall we start off by saying… acquaintances?”

  Balvonak stared at the offering. He almost reached for it, propelled by the soundness of Elias’ statement, but stopped himself. He couldn’t touch the priest’s hand. Not without repercussion. His eyes darted to the man’s face as he cocked his head. “Still being serious, priest?”

  Elias flashed a cheeky grin. He closed his fingers into his palm and pulled his hand away. “Please tell Esven that I will see her soon. And you as well, Balvo.” After a polite bow, Elias turned, vanishing back in the direction of Pinesguard.

  Blinking, Balvonak scratched at the top of his skull. Was that a joke? He tossed his concentration down to Maritimus. “What in the Netherworld was that all about?”

  The feline looked up at him lazily, his yellow orbs only half open.

  After minutes of searching, Esven returned, stepping outside the door. She looked around, circling once, before her focus landed on Balvo. “Elias left already?”

  “Don’t miss him too much,” Balvo muttered. “We can probably catch up with him if we walk fast enough.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. I have to finish up here anyway.”

  “With what?” Balvonak asked, peering at her overstuffed satchel. “It looks like you fit the whole damn house in there.”

  “It’s the house I need to finish up with,” she replied, motioning him to step away. “Back up, back up.”

  Following her instruction, Balvonak stepped away. He watched as Esven drew her index fingers together and closed her eyes. She mumbled something far too inaudible for the demon to hear, but he knew what it was in a moment.

  The incantation that spilled from Esven’s lips layered over the home. The hardened mud that made up the sides melted back to the ground. With nothing to hold them, the stones fell from their places, hitting the earth. Wood that made up the frame sprouted small branches, leaves, and roots as it sank back into the earth’s soil.

  Each natural element fell away, returning to its original state. Where once a structure stood, in a flash, it was gone, looking like nothing more than the forest in which it used to sit.

  “Well,” Balvonak uttered, tilting his head, “that’s certainly one way to keep vagrants out.”

  “Thank you for all that you have given me,” Esven said to the forest, smiling at the trees. “I will be back when this task is complete.”

  The wind whispered something through the leaves. Balvonak did not understand it, but whatever it was made Esven’s smile grow.

  “Come on,” she said, turning on her heels to look in the direction of town. “No time to waste.”

  Shoving his hands into his pockets, Balvonak followed alongside her. Maritimus padded ahead, never one to forgo the opportunity to be the leader of the pack.

  The two walked in silence for some time, the scampering of small animals providing the only noise around. They walked slowly. Esven wanted to be sure Elias had enough time to say goodbye. She knew how much he loved the church. How painful it must have been for him to leave it.

  Balvo kicked at a leaf as they strolled. He wondered what his life would be now. It had no direction before. That wanderlust seemed better than the direction he headed toward. A demon, assisting in sending his brethren to their deaths… He didn’t know how he felt about that.

  He figured he’d find out soon enough.

  The wind blew around them, causing an unexpected shiver to rise up Esven’s torso. Balvo glimpsed her from the corner of his eye, catching sight of her chill. “I’d offer to warm you, but I think I might overdo it.”

  “Oh!” Esven gasped, stopping in her tracks. She looked down to fish through her satchel, rifling through an impossible amount of things before she pulled something small from the bottom. “Before—I said I had made something for you. Here.” She held it out to him.

  Balvonak glanced down at the waiting object in her palm. The sunlight caught the edge of it. Silver. A simple, grey ring. He lifted his eyes to her and flashed a sarcastic smirk. “I’m flattered, my darling, but your proposal lacks a bit of ceremony, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Redness flushed over Esven’s cheeks as she thrust it into his hand. “It’s not—it’s imbued,” she explained, drawing her hand away as soon as she could. “I put an incantation on it. So long as you’re wearing it, you… you should be able to touch me—touch anyone,” she corrected quickly, her blush spreading. “You should be able to touch anyone.”

  “Touch you?” Balvonak lobbed an incredulous stare at her. His stomach tightened at her word choice. “You mean…”

  “Without hurting me,” she added, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. “No more burns.”

  Balvonak gawked at the ring, a breath hitching in his throat. He had only ever been given one gift before—the locket—and he had to trick a woman into giving him that. Wordlessly, he slipped it onto his index finger, slow in his movements, as if the magical properties would somehow backfire.

  “Well?” Esven gazed up at him, her hands clasped in front of her. “What do you think?”

  Not many moments existed that stripped words from the demon Balvonak. He stared at the ring, turning it around in the light. “I think… this is… it’s…” Stumbling over his words, Balvo paused, clearing his throat. “Thank you.”

  Esven sucked in a small breath and held it. “Would… would you care to test it out?”

  A feeling hit him—like someone had struck him on his chest. Balvonak felt his pulse race. “Test it?”

  “Yes,” Esven nodded. “We should know if it works… right?”

  Balvonak ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes dipping to the ground. “Right,” he said, “sure. Makes sense.” His heart betrayed him as he wiped his sweating palms off on the sides of his tunic. Ever so slowly, the demon lifted a hand. His fingers hovered near her cheek. All it would take was one movement. One inch, and his skin would be on hers.

  Esven stared, her own body betraying her anticipation. She stopped breathing altogether.

  His eyes flitted over her face, tracing each feature. After absorbing the intimate and up close sight of her, he paused. He couldn’t do it. Balvo frowned before he drew his hand back, curling his fingers int
o his palm. Not her face. If the spell did not take… he couldn’t risk burning her there.

  “Here,” she offered up her hand, as if she read his mind. “These have already taken a beating. They’re tough.”

  Balvo stared at her delicate fingers. They did not look tough. He swallowed, unable to steady his hand as he reached out and unhurriedly took hers into his. His heart pounded even faster. Preparing himself for the worst, he carefully weaved his fingers into her own. “How’s that?” he whispered.

  Had her throat somehow merged with the wild organ in her chest? It seemed as if she was choking on it. Esven felt fire. Heat. But it did not come from Balvonak’s hand.

  No. It came from his touch.

  “It’s… good,” she whispered back, unable to utter anything more profound.

  A nervous grin tugged at one side of Balvo’s mouth. “Good.”

  A meow from Maritimus pulled both of their eyes off of one another. The feline looked back at them, wearing a look of absolute irritation.

  “You know,” Balvonak mumbled, his gaze on the feline, “you could just conjure an ability that allows him to speak.”

  Esven frowned, staring at the cat. “It’s bad enough I have to hear his thoughts in my mind. I do not wish to hear them out loud. They are loving at their core, but the surface is often coated with a thick layer of unpleasant judgment.”

  “Ah.” Balvo nodded, regrettably sliding his fingers out of Esven’s grip. He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning. “Well… I’ve spent the whole of my existence living with unpleasant judgments, so I should feel right at home in his company.”

  The witch smiled. She stared at him a little longer than she should have before she peeled her eyes away. “Come on, then. Mustn’t dawdle. We’ve demons to hunt.”

  Balvonak smacked his lips, trailing after her as he shoved his hands back into his pockets. “That we do, my darling. That we do.”

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  The wafting collection of souls that had gathered in the Netherworld stared at Marumon with wide, open eyes. In the first several hundred years that the deceased humans spilled into His afterlife, He found an intriguing excitement in assessing them. He was eager to watch them change. To witness their evolution as they shifted into something better than they were in their earthly lives.